


Out from the Underground

by coldplayisawesome



Category: WWE
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldplayisawesome/pseuds/coldplayisawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On another seemingly unsuccessful night out, Renee encounters a man who just might be able to change her whole perspective on life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out from the Underground

The lights flash in time to the music, lasers hitting the crowd with an array of color. The bass pulses through the bones of everyone in the club. Some people dance by themselves, eyes closed, off in their own world with only the music tying them back to the present; some dance with others, in large groups or intimate pairs.

Renee stands alone by the bar, watching as the colors shift every few seconds. For several minutes she’s had her eye on this one woman, most likely in her late twenties, who has been waving her arms around and shaking her hips with absolutely no regard for the others around her. Seven times in the last thirty seconds alone this woman has bumped into or smacked the patrons in her surrounding area, with no apologies and no indication that she even knows it happened.

Renee takes a sip of her drink – just a Sprite with a curly straw, the bartender loved that – and lightly taps her foot to the music. The song changes and a few people stop dancing to visit the bar. Renee steps back toward the wall, away from the approaching crowd. She rests her head back on the concrete and thinks about the errands she needs to run tomorrow. Stop at the bank. Buy batteries. Call the cable company, because they still haven’t set up her Wi-Fi and she’s been living in her new apartment for two weeks already. Call the landlord, because her AC hasn’t been working and even at night the temperature outside hasn’t dropped below 75.

She needs to find another job if she’s going to be able to afford the place on her own. Her current entry-level newspaper job doesn’t pay nearly enough. No one wants to give a fresh college grad a decent paying job. The apartment is only one bedroom, but still costs almost her entire month’s pay. She’s reluctant to live with anyone else, anyway, as she’s never been good at maintaining relationships of any kind –

Call mom tomorrow. How could she forget? How could she _keep_ forgetting?

As she finishes off the Sprite, her eyes turn again to the woman on the dancefloor. She has bright orange hair with a single strip of blond in the front that keeps changing color with the lights. Renee thought about dyeing her hair once, just a single strip in her otherwise light-colored hair – the opposite of this woman’s dye job, really. There was no way Renee felt confident enough to color all of her hair at once. In fact, she never dyed it any color, because she couldn’t settle on one. She hasn’t even changed her haircut since the ninth grade.

Renee brings her empty glass back up to the bar with the intention of ordering another Sprite, but she can’t do it once she makes eye contact with the bartender and feels the disgust in his glare. Besides, at that moment, the crowd of about four or five people at the bar stand up one by one, surrounding Renee as they begin to make their way back out to the dancefloor.

One man on her right pulls three glow sticks out from the pocket of his shorts and snaps them. One is green, the other two pink. Renee watches, because she has nothing better to do, but she doesn’t expect it when the man stares back at her. He looks until she meets his eyes, and then hands her his green glow stick.

“You could use one of these, I think.”

“Oh,” Renee says, quietly at first, but quickly realizing she’ll need to speak up to be heard over the blaring music. “No, thanks, I’m fine.”

“Uh uh.” He shakes his head and holds the glow stick closer to her. “No, come on.”

Renee attempts to refuse his offer again, but can’t seem to get further than, “I- I…” before she finds herself grabbing hold of the glow stick. He takes his now empty hand and places it innocently on her back, guiding her out to the dancefloor. In the moments following she realizes what she has done – interacting with another human being – and begins to regret it. What are they going to want from her? What if she can’t be what they expect her to be?

Sure enough, when they reach an empty spot on the floor and settle in, Renee finds herself standing completely still, gripping the glow stick in her right hand with all her might. Everyone else seems to be having a good time. Renee can barely muster the energy to breathe in and out, her eyes straight ahead, unblinking. The stretch of time between inhale and exhale grows ever shorter as the fellow patrons bump up against her in their movements. There’s no room between anyone on this dancefloor and Renee feels like she’s going to be stuck here forever.

Her breathing has become so quick and automated that she’s not even sure her lungs are moving of their own accord. Did someone hook her up to some sort of machine? Her hands shake and her eyes tear up, maybe from having not blinked in almost a minute, but maybe also from the overwhelming sensation that the whole place is closing in on her.

And then she finally blinks and she’s outside, the music nothing more than a dull murmur in the background, the only light now coming from a single bulb above the dark purple door. Against the brick exterior of the club, despite the humid air hitting her lungs, Renee feels like she can finally begin to regain control of her body. She closes her eyes for a second, breathing deeply through her nose, out through her mouth. She counts to ten, apparently out loud.

“Does that really help?”

Renee’s eyes burst open. She hadn’t realized anyone else was out here with her, although now that she thinks about it she was in no condition earlier to get herself out of that club. She glances over to her left and sees the man who gave her the glow stick. It’s no longer in her hand, but back in his.

“Um…” Renee is perfectly content to leave it at this, but the man just watches her, waiting. Not expectantly, though. No, this is more like… he’s listening to her? Well, she doesn’t know what to say. She’s already forgotten what he said and she’s too embarrassed to ask him to repeat it. Plus, she’s only just now noticing the fohawk this guy is sporting and it’s confusing her.

“You OK?” he says as he places a hand on her shoulder. She shakes her head to clear her mind, then nods.

“Yeah, I… yeah.” She swallows and averts her gaze. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I have a brother who has anxiety attacks like that. So I know what to do, usually.”

Renee smiles, not knowing how else to respond. And now she can hear the heavy European accent in this guy’s voice. How is it possible to be this unobservant? She wonders where he’s from, but tries her hardest not to think about it too much and miss what he says next.

Except he doesn’t speak again after that, so Renee decides it must be her turn to talk. She still regrets ever talking to him in the first place, but something about the way he has patiently dealt with her over the past few minutes makes her more willing to open up.

“I’m just not good around people.” She nods slightly three times. “Obviously.”

He smiles. Renee notices he has nice teeth. “Then how come you are out at a club filled with people?”

“I want to be better.” Now speaking feels like breathing did before. It’s like there’s some creature inside of her voice box that’s letting her talk to this perfect stranger without any consultation from her brain. She’s becoming uncomfortable with how comfortable this man is making her feel. It doesn’t seem right.

“You sound like you’re doing a good job to me.” He takes his hand off of her shoulder. She scolds herself mentally for not noticing it was still there. “But I won’t tell you how you should feel. Would you like to go for a walk?”

Renee looks back at the door of the club. “I’m OK, if you want to go back to your friends.”

“Ah, they weren’t my friends. I don’t know any of them.”

Renee stares at him, her mouth slightly open. “How do you do that?”

He only laughs in response, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her toward the sidewalk. He holds on just long enough to get her to start moving. “Let’s walk. You’ll feel better.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tell me how to feel,” she says, but it’s playful. This guy seems genuinely nice and so far she’s enjoying his company. If only she could figure out the fohawk…

“Well, you got me there. I won’t make you walk if you don’t want to.”

“Where is your accent from?” She shakes her head once. “Sorry, I have to ask now or else I’m just gonna keep thinking about it.”

“My accent is from me, and I’m from Switzerland. But I moved here some years ago for university and I liked it enough to stay longer than I needed to.”

“And the hair?”

“The hair is staying, too,” he says with a wink. Renee finds herself smiling just a little.

Their walk-and-talk continues for almost twenty more minutes before Renee realizes how far from the club they’ve gone. They’ve cleared nearly a dozen blocks, now crossing over the bridge between the older part of the city, where the club and Renee’s apartment are, and into the more commercial areas. Renee watches out over the river, not much to see in the darkness, but still beautiful in the way it reflects the moonlight that briefly shines through a small gap in the cloudy sky.

As they near the end of the bridge, a bright white flashes in the distance, followed immediately by a loud crack of thunder. Renee laughs, loving the sight of lightning over the river. But then large drops of rain begin to fall from the sky and Renee no longer finds any of this funny.

“Come on!” The man gestures to her and somehow two seconds later Renee’s hand is in his, both sprinting toward the end of the bridge and into the nearest shelter they can reach.

It just so happens to be a record shop with a café and lounge section in the back. They step inside, soaking wet, and Renee lets go of the man’s hand to ring her hair out. There’s a small stage in the middle of the seating area, where a woman with a colorfully painted acoustic guitar currently plays a downtempo song. A half-dozen people sit around the stage, most of them with empty cups and plates.

“Well, that was crazy!” Renee says with a laugh. The man smiles back at her.

“Let’s find a place to sit until the rain stops.”

They park themselves at a table by the back window, not too far from the stage, but not close enough that they can’t hear one another over the music. Renee watches the rain pelt the ground outside. The man runs his hand over his fohawk.

“It reminds me of the one summer I spent in England when I was a teenager,” he says. “It rained every day. For three months, not one day of sunshine.”

“Really? Not even one day?”

“Not one day.”

“Wow…” Renee looks around the place, fidgets in her seat. “The worst for me was when we went on vacation to North Carolina – I was, like, nine – and there was almost a hurricane. It stormed so bad. The only nice day was the last day we were there.”

“Vacation. I love that word. Vacation. It’s very American.”

Renee laughs. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No, I just said that I love that word.”

“And then you said, ‘It’s very American’,” Renee says in her best attempt at a Swiss accent. “Usually when people say that it’s not a good thing.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” the man says with a smile. Renee just shakes her head.

“This is going to be so awkward for me to only ask now, but what’s your name?”

“You can call me Cesaro.”

“Is that your real name?”

“Well, it’s the name I go by. So yes, it is real. And what is your name?”

“Renee.”

“Renee. That’s a beautiful name.”

Renee beams as a worker from the café rushes over to their table.

“You guys look like you could use some coffee,” the worker says, whipping out a notepad from the pocket of her apron. “Can I get you anything?”

They order a cup each – Renee goes for a cold brew, while Cesaro sticks to decaf – and a couple of blueberry muffins. Silence falls over the table as they wait for their order to arrive. The rain continues to patter, a nice beat for the calming music coming from the stage. Renee mostly watches out the window, but she turns once to find Cesaro’s eyes on her. She can’t quite place the look on his face, maybe a combination of concern and fatigue. He’s staring, but he seems distracted.

Renee leans forward a little, tilting her head to the right. He continues to stare blankly for a few more moments, and then his eyes shift subtly to meet hers. This gives Renee no more insight into what Cesaro might be thinking, but at least she knows she has his attention now. She wants to speak, but suddenly feels the words catch in her throat and her chest seems a little tighter. 

“I have to run to the bathroom,” she says, raising from her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

As Renee leaves, Cesaro leans back in his seat and looks out the window. She walks into the bathroom on the other side of the shop, stopping to examine her reflection in the mirror above the sink. Her hair got a bit mussed after being rung out, but she’s not expecting it to look even remotely good while it’s still drying. Twisting the blue knob of the faucet, Renee splashes her face a few times – like she needs more water in her life at the moment. She turns off the water, but keeps her head down facing the sink.

This night has been nothing like she expected. Earlier she figured she’d down a few Sprites and call it quits. But this is what she wanted, right? Not necessarily to be in this exact shop, with this exact European man, but something like it. She wanted to connect with someone. So why is her brain telling her to get out?

Taking in the deepest breath she can muster, Renee lifts her head and glares at her reflection once more. “You’re going to do this,” she tells herself.

Then, before she can argue, she pushes herself away from the sink and heads out the door. On the way back to the table, she continues to make demands disguised as words of encouragement under her breath, eyes down toward the floor. When she approaches the checkout counter, she looks up and sees that the table she and Cesaro sat at is now completely empty.

She doesn’t have much time to consider this before the worker breaks her concentration, beckoning Renee over to pick up the drinks and muffins. Renee foots the bill, not sure what she’s going to do with the extra drink (the muffins she’ll have no problem taking), but not wanting to let it go to waste.

But of course this would happen, she thinks as she brings over the goods to the table. Of course, as soon as she talks herself into going with the flow, the flow dries up into a puddle and she’s left in the mud. It gets all in her hair and on her nice clothes and she’s going to have to get them dry-cleaned, it’s going to cost a fortune, and good lord is this metaphor getting out of hand.

She hears a boisterous laugh and immediately feels stupid. Turning around, she finds Cesaro standing by the stage. Still in the shop. He’s talking to the musician, who must have only just finished her act. They’re both smiling and laughing. Cesaro makes some wild gestures with his hands as he talks. Renee collapses into her seat, instantly grabs a muffin and stuffs it into her face, biting off as much as she can in one go.

In a minute, Cesaro is back at the table. Renee is already down to the last two bites of her muffin. Cesaro says nothing as he begins to sip at his decaf. Renee feels a tension that she’s almost positive is one-sided. When she looks over at Cesaro and he smiles at her, she relaxes a little. With another dozen sips, Cesaro depletes his coffee supply, sets the empty mug back on the table.

Then he’s off again, back to the edge of the stage where the musician has been leaning and scrolling on her phone for the past five minutes. Renee takes a swig of her coffee as the musician hands Cesaro her guitar. He climbs up onstage, slinging the guitar strap over his torso. Renee sits a little straighter as Cesaro rests on the stool in front of the microphone.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says. Scattered, half-hearted claps come from the crowd. Cesaro wastes no more time. His left hand moves to the fretboard and the right begins picking at the strings.

The song seems familiar to Renee, but she can’t quite place it. It’s only a few bars before Cesaro begins to sing and while this provides her with no more clarity, she enjoys hearing his voice.

 _Lady, when you’re with me I’m smiling_ _…_

His accent comes through so thick that at first it’s a little difficult to understand the lyrics. The higher notes make his voice crack every now and then, but for the most part it sounds smooth. Renee finds herself bobbing along to the melody.

_Lady, from the moment I saw you_

_Standing ah-ah-all alone_ _…_

She can hear the lyrics more clearly now. She feels an odd sensation in her chest, neither good or bad at first, just strange.

_You gave all the love that I needed_

_So shy, like a child who had grown_ _…_

At this point, Cesaro shoots her a quick glance and she feels a chill run down her spine. She’s not sure what any of this means. In a second, he’s back facing the rest of the crowd, closes his eyes as the song hits the chorus.

 _You’re my lady of the morning_ _…_

Styx. It’s Styx. Renee knows this now. She remembers hearing this song on the radio a lot when she was a kid, listening to the throwback station. That’s the least of her worries at the moment.

He’s not singing to her, right? That would be weird. They just met, they barely know anything about each other. Literally the last things they actually said to one another were their names. But part of Renee wants it to be not weird.

She’s so lost in her thoughts that she completely misses the rest of the song. Next thing she knows, Cesaro is back at the table, hovering over her. She looks up at him and he nods toward the window.

“Looks like the rain cleared up. Should we get out of here?”

Not in any position to put forth the effort to make her own decision, she rises from her seat. Cesaro begins to walk out and she follows, but she makes sure to grab the last blueberry muffin still on the table, stuffs it in her mouth so fast that the whole thing is almost gone before they even leave the shop. Nothing like a little late-night stress eating, she thinks.

They walk around the area for a while. The temperature outside has dropped considerably after the storm. A few puddles collect on the sidewalk, which Cesaro is careful to avoid, but Renee neglects to even notice until she steps in one and soaks her right foot through to the sock. She pretends it didn’t happen, of course.

Cesaro hums _Lady_ again. Renee feels the panic rise through her torso and tries to quickly take control of the situation.

“What made you pick that song?” she asks.

Cesaro looks to her, tilts his head. “I like Styx,” he says with a shrug. “ _Mr. Roboto_ didn’t seem appropriate.”

“Well, I can’t argue with you there.”

Cesaro pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen several times over the course of mere seconds. Renee can’t imagine what he’s doing on there that requires him to click so many times, but she doesn’t want to break his concentration so doesn’t ask any more questions.

Just down the road, in bright neon letters, Renee sees a sign that reads, “PIN-BOWL WIZARDS.” She remarks on the name, at which point Cesaro beams and shows her the screen of his phone. He has Google maps open, a pin placed in the same location as the building.

“That’s where we’re going!”

Renee laughs at the coincidence. Bowling… she can handle that. Hopefully. The coffee seems to be kicking in a bit stronger now, her apprehension subsiding for the present.

The sign outside of the establishment was no indication of just how gaudy the interior would be, it seems, as they step into a bowling alley covered in neon, glow-in-the-dark colors and lit exclusively by blacklight. Well, judging by where they met, Renee thinks, this seems like the kind of place Cesaro would go.

“And I believe you paid for the coffee,” Cesaro says as Renee continues to look around, “so consider this one on me.”

She doesn’t argue, instead just asks, “Have you been here before?”

“Have I been here before.” He shakes his head, which Renee takes to mean that was a stupid question, yes, of course he’s been here. She’s wrong. “If I had been here I wouldn’t need to look it up.”

“You know, you make some really good points, Cesaro.”

At the counter, they pick out their shoes, which are somehow even uglier than normal bowling shoes. Cesaro gets a pair that is green, orange, and yellow, while Renee opts for greenish-yellow and blue. Really neither of them choose the combinations so much as no other options exist. The point of the game is not who can look the most stylish, though Renee can’t help but think that bowling shoe manufacturers could try a little harder.

They bowl a few games and Renee learns quickly that she is at least ten times better at bowling than Cesaro. She jokes at one point about teaching him how to hold the ball, like they do in cheesy romance movies where the one person gets real close to the other, wraps their arms around from behind – she doesn’t mention the movie comparison to him. In fact, she starts to feel guilty thinking about it. This isn’t like that, it’s not a cheesy romance story at all. And there is absolutely nothing whimsical about bowling.

In the end, she doesn’t teach him better bowling techniques, opting instead to simply win all of the games. When they exit the alley and the cool air rushes over Renee’s face, she realizes just how tired she has become. She doesn’t even know exactly what the time is, or what the time could be based on how long they’ve been out. Just one more entry on the list of what she should pay attention to, but never does.

“Well, should we,” she makes circular gestures with her arms, hands semi-closed, “head for home?”

“Home? Renee…” Cesaro clicks his phone on for a moment. Renee can’t see the entire screen properly, but she’s pretty sure the time is around 2am. “… around here, you never wanna sleep all night.”

“I like to sleep for some of the night.”

“When was the last time you stayed up until the next morning?”

“Oh, it’s been… too long to even remember,” she says. “I didn’t even pull all-nighters in college to study.”

“I don’t think I have ever stayed up until the next morning. I can get to five o’clock and then,” Cesaro slides his right hand over his left and out in front of him, “I’m out. Like a light, they say.”

As they return to the bridge, Renee looks out to the river once again. An idea pops in her head.

“I know somewhere we could go,” she says.

It takes them another five minutes to walk the span of the bridge, at which point Renee takes them off of the sidewalk and onto a dirt path along the bank of the river. The air feels even cooler by the waterside. Renee feels more alive now than she did hours ago. Some of that, she reasons, is probably due to the coffee she had earlier. But there’s something about being here with another person that she finds exciting.

“You’ve been here before,” Cesaro says, a brightness in his tone. “I can tell.”

Renee throws a quick glance at him over her shoulder. “You're making fun of me again.”

“No. Why would I do that?”

Renee shakes her head as she lets out a short laugh. They approach a flat area of land upon which rest several large rocks.

“I like to come out here from time to time,” she says as she climbs on top of the nearest rock and sits herself on the edge. “Clear my head.”

“This spot right here?” Cesaro sits down next to her, which she had not expected. Despite its breadth, the rock struggles to accommodate both of them, so Cesaro is sitting dangerously close, their arms nearly pressed together. Renee doesn't mind so much. “On this exact rock?”

“Sometimes that one,” she replies, gesturing three rocks down on her left.

They share a laugh, then silence falls once again. After a few minutes, Renee starts to hum _Lady_. It’s been stuck in her head for the past couple of hours. When he hears it, Cesaro smiles.

“It’s a good song.”

Renee nods. “What was that woman’s name at the coffee shop? She was really good, too.”

“I don't know, I didn't ask.”

“You didn't get her name?” Cesaro shrugs. “You played her guitar, but didn't ask for her name?!”

“She didn’t ask me for mine.” Renee shakes her head in disbelief. “Music brings people together like that.”

“Yeah, I can tell the music means more to you.” She says it only partially playful, but Cesaro doesn’t seem to notice either way.

“I love music, because, like, I think it connects people and unites people as well. It’s powerful...“

Cesaro drifts off into his thoughts, a small smile playing on his lips the entire time. In the peaceful silence, Renee starts to worry about how much she enjoys Cesaro’s company, how much Cesaro seems like the kind of person who would just disappear out of her life forever if she even blinks for a second too long.

Maybe it's being out here in her safe place, where her anxiety always seems to melt away, or maybe it's more likely that some of her inner filters have worn down from lack of sleep, but she feels the urge to press Cesaro further. To find a way to tether themselves together.

She asks him, “So, those people you were with at the club. You said you didn’t know them.” Cesaro nods.  “And they wouldn’t care that you just left without saying anything?”

“They probably didn’t even notice.”

“I think they’d notice if someone like you went missing.” Cesaro seems touched by this, a soft smile spreading across his face. He looks out to something in the distance.

“I don’t know if I would want them to. It seems easier this way.”

“So, you can just talk to people and it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means something. You can form a connection with someone and carry them with you for the rest of your life. But you may never see them again.”

“How do you connect with someone when you know almost nothing about them? Is that a real connection?”

“What do you need to know?”

“Just... anything. Where are they from, what do they do for a living.”

“What you’re talking about is trivia,” he says.

“Yeah, but it's important to know about someone.”

“You don't know that much about me.”

“No, but I think I'd like to.” Cesaro glances over at Renee and she thinks she sees the sadness that lit his eyes back in the coffee shop return. “Well, I know that you’re from Switzerland.”

“So you have one piece of information about me.”

“What do you do for a living?”

Cesaro runs the pads of his right fingers over the surface of his left wrist. He breaks eye contact, hurling himself off the rock and onto the ground. Turning to Renee, he gestures behind himself.

“Let's go by the water.” He doesn't wait for an answer from Renee, just begins to walk away. Renee heaves a deep sigh. She contemplates staying on the rock, but Cesaro’s already at the water’s edge. By the time she joins him, he holds a handful of pebbles, smooth and flat.

A quick flick of his wrist sends one pebble flying out so far that Renee almost misses it hitting the water. With a laugh, she asks, “How come you can skip like that, but you can't throw a bowling ball?”

“Mystery of life.”

“You're a mystery...” Cesaro looks to her, contemplative. He gives it up in a second, skips another rock. It doesn’t go quite as far as the first, but Renee knows it’s still better than she could do. When Cesaro offers her one of his pebbles, she just shakes her head no. For now, she’s perfectly content to watch him.

Cesaro continues this pattern, throwing and waiting, until he empties his hand. He doesn’t pick up any more rocks; they both just watch as the last ripples fade out of the water.

“You're scared,” Renee says, a bit quiet.

“Of what? The water?”

“It's OK. I'm scared, too.” The words just pour out of her. She doesn’t even have time to think about what she’s saying, what she’s doing. “When you let people in, you lose control, you might get hurt.”

“That’s not...” Cesaro scuffs his foot against the ground.

“If you think that running is going to get you anywhere-”

“Running?” His tone is more agitated now, but Renee doesn’t pay close enough attention to notice. She’s on her own trail.

“-it’s not, I promise. You’re just going to end up sad and alone. Sometimes you just have to get out there and- and stay, and stare whatever it is right in the face-”

Cesaro sets his hand over her shoulder and pushes her - gently, just enough to force her to turn toward him. “No, I’m not like you, OK? I’m not that kind of a person. I can’t stay doing the same thing all the time. I get bored.”

“It’s not really an excuse. Do you think other people like talking to you when you clearly don’t care about them?”

“Where is all this coming from?” Cesaro says, his volume slowly increasing. Renee unintentionally matches his tone.

“You keep dragging me around everywhere all night, but, what, you can’t tell me a single thing about yourself? Or ask about me?”

“I’m not forcing you to be out here! I thought we were having a good time just hanging out.”

“I was having a good time. But I’d like to have a real conversation with you and you aren’t _saying_ anything.”

“You can’t blame me for being the way I am if you think I’m the only person you can talk to,” Cesaro says. “You said it yourself before, we only just met.”

“You think I’m blaming you?”

“I think you’re projecting things onto me that come from _your_ insecurities.“

“You don’t know that much about me, either.”

Cesaro holds his arms out, gesturing to her body, heading shaking slightly back and forth. “What is there to know?”

A fierce anger flares up inside of Renee. Her lips and jaw tighten; her eyes go wide. She rushes off, back to the large rock, as she starts to break down, tears flooding to her eyes. Cesaro stays back. As Renee lays down on the rock, her legs over the edge, and stares at the meager amount of stars she can see in the sky, Cesaro sits adjacent to the river, knees to his chest.

The worst part, Renee thinks, is that he’s right. What has she ever done to make anyone care about her? She has nothing interesting to share. She’s almost in her mid-twenties and has done nothing with her life. She doesn’t go out to new places, she doesn’t try new things. The more she thinks about it, the more she struggles to see why she thought she deserved that attention to begin with.

But she also knows that she wasn’t completely wrong about Cesaro. The man definitely has some deep issues that he needs to figure out. Foolishly, she thought maybe she could help him.

At least an hour passes while Renee reflects, during which time she assumes Cesaro has left. She wouldn’t blame him - they’ve obviously proven to be incompatible, and Cesaro has shown that he doesn’t mind leaving without notice. She decides to stay for another half hour or so to really calm down, then finally head home. She’s looking forward to collapsing in her bed and sleeping until evening, most likely. There goes her time to run errands.

Fifteen minutes later, there’s a crunching noise coming from the ground beside her. She feels, but does not see, the presence of another human being.

“It’s not bad to want to stay in one place.” He practically breathes the words. She looks briefly over at him, just to make sure he’s really there, then she stares back at the sky. Cesaro shifts his weight to his right side. “But if you let people in, sometimes they’re the ones who get hurt.”

She spares another quick glance over and back, scrunching her eyebrows together. “You said that you can connect with someone and carry them with you for the rest of your life. But if you don’t know them, aren’t you projecting, too?”

Cesaro nods as he considers this, though Renee doesn’t see it.

“I know what you mean that it seems like I don’t care. People deserve to have someone care about them. I don’t know if I’m the right person for that. For anyone.” He takes a deep breath. “And I don’t know if I can change that part of me.”

Renee takes a minute to consider his words. She moves, shifting around so that she’s sitting upright, back facing Cesaro. It doesn’t seem inviting at first, but she turns back to look at him, gesturing to the open space beside her. Cesaro swings around to the other side of the rock and takes his seat.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing, either,” she says. “So... it’s OK.”

“It’s not OK.” They look at one another. “But maybe it could become OK.”

Cesaro stands up. Renee keeps her eyes on him as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. When he turns it on, he lets out a quick laugh, shows her the screen. 5:07 AM.

“Look, I made it!”

Renee laughs. She turns her head down and fidgets with her hands as Cesaro continues messing with his phone. A minute later, he nudges her with the device. As she grabs it from his hands, she sees a new contact form. She looks up at him, uncertain. With a tiny smile, he nods, gestures at the phone.

Renee enters her name and number quickly. When she hits save, his entire contact list comes up. Only four other entries exist. She doesn’t acknowledge this, just passes the phone back to Cesaro. He presses some more buttons. A tone emits from Renee’s pocket - a new text.  

_Hi :)_

Renee laughs, which makes Cesaro smile. He reaches out his arms. Renee hops up and hugs him, her arms around his torso. He lets his arms fall around her shoulders.

“I’m glad I met you, Renee.”

She smiles against his chest. “I’m glad I met you, too.”


End file.
